Walking along the city streets at night

when all the goodly souls are well abed.

Deep, deep the quiet, hearing footfalls, slight

ring of my high heels upon the hardened ground

to make me start a little at the sound,

afraid perhaps of my own shadow,

my breathing fast and hurried, full of fright.

In that still peace, that eerie silence of the night

the tall trees bend, leaves rustle in the light

and tender wind, like lovers sighing, yearning for caresses.

And in the darkened houses, weary people sleep

while eager lovers, behind half-drawn blinds do keep,

their tryst and moan and rock and sigh.

As I haste through the city streets at night.

Then suddenly the glorious, liquid, fluid, flowing,

the warbling, trilling, swirl of notes from golden throat

of the night bird upon his branch pours forth

as he sits swaying in the loving wind his joy proclaiming.

I stop quite still and listen, captured and enthralled.

by this extraordinary sound. A bird

that sings so sweetly in the night.

In city streets at night.